Limerick-Off Monday – Rhyme Word: LOON or LUNE or BALLOON or SALOON at the end of any one line (Submission Deadline: September 4, 2021)
It’s Limerick-Off time, once again. And that means I write a limerick, and you write your own, using the same rhyme word. Then you post your limerick(s) as a comment to this post and, if you’re a Facebook user, on Facebook too.
I hope you’ll join me in writing limericks using LOON or LUNE or BALLOON or SALOON at the end of any one line. (Homonyms or homophones are fine.)
The best submission will be crowned Limerick-Off Award Winner. (Here’s last week’s Limerick-Off Award Winner.)
Additionally, you may write themed limericks related to MEMORY, using any rhyme word. And of course I’ll present an extra award — one for the best MEMORY-related limerick.
How will your poems be judged? By meter, rhyme, cleverness, and humor. (If you’re feeling a bit fuzzy about limerick writing rules, here’s my How To Write A Limerick article.)
I’ll announce the winners on September 5, 2021, right before I post the next Limerick-Off. So that gives you two full weeks to submit your clever, polished verse. Your submission deadline is Saturday, September 4, 2021, at 4:00 p.m. (Eastern Time.)
Here’s my LOON/LUNE/BALLOON/SALOON-rhyme limerick:
A fellow, as mad as a loon,
Would strip naked outside ev’ry noon,
Till a note came. ’Twas snide:
“Were I you, I would hide
All my privates; your prick’s picayune.
And here’s my MEMORY-themed limerick:
Once again, I am drawing a blank.
My recall’s, alas, in the tank.
My brain feels bombarded
By facts, soon discarded.
So Google’s my memory bank.
Please feel free to enter my Limerick-Off by posting your limerick(s) in my comments. And if you’re on Facebook, I hope you’ll join my friends in that same activity on my Facebook Limerick-Off post.
To receive an email alert whenever I post a new Limerick-Off, please email Madkane@MadKane.com Subject: MadKane’s Newsletter
Tags: Bawdy Humor, Blank Memory, Brain Humor, Brain Limerick, Clothing Humor, Clothing Limerick, Competition Limerick, Google Humor, Google Limerick, Limerick Challenge, Limerick Contest, Memory Humor, Memory Limerick, Naked Humor, Naked Limerick, Poetry & Prompts, Writing Prompts
Memory: A Perfect Topic For An Old Bag, (like me)
Wow! “Memory”, just like a dream!
This topic is making me beam!
I won’t whine anymore,
Cuz for this one I’ll score!
Mad, remind me please, what is the theme?
I’m getting my hair done at noon.
For the mood that I’m in, what a boon!
At this “shoppe” they serve booze,
Any kind that you choose.
I just love “Cut And Color Saloon”.
Mary smells just like “Peppe Le Pew”
That girl oughta’ live in a zoo.
She’s one real crazy loon
From an old “Looney Tune”
And a stinky blind date, but who knew?
I tried to enjoy Clair De Lune
Such a beautiful Debussy tune
But my neighbour was playin’
A lesser refrain
“By The Light Of The Silvery Moon”
*************
From Mad Kane
I was wondering how long it would be before Debussy got a mention. Not at all long, as it turns out.
A foregone conclunesion?
*******
Oy!
I think Mr. Hot Air is gawking.
And soon, I am gonna’ start balking.
That big fat balloon
Told me, “Baby, let’s spoon”.
(Or was it the helium talking?)
A French Comedy by La Lisi
“Is it true what they say de de lune?
That it’s really a Babouse cartoon?
Let’s see if it’s so.
Up high we shall go
And take a “voyaj a la moon”
My darling, let’s fly to the moon!
We’ll go in a hot air balloon.
We’ll sail lunar seas,
and feast on green cheese,
then bask in the earthlight and spoon.
My memory’s way under par
I’ve forgotten where I parked my car
I went to the doc, –
Got some pills for my block
But now I don’t know where they are.
I’ve just heard the best joke, my friend said it
So it’s fair that she gets all the credit
The words I’ve forgotten
(my memory’s rotten)
But you’d cry tears of joy if you read it.
He wanted to make the girls swoon
so he thought he’d transcribe “Claire de Lune.”
What he’d meant as romantic
just sounded pedantic.
It’s not a good tune for bassoon!
Our Former President
To govern this land, I’d enjoy it.
But if I should lie, then oh boy it
(Just like a balloon,
When the fun might end soon)
Would take one small prick to destroy it.
In order to make line 5 more obvious, I will spell out one word differently.
“A French Comedy” by La Lisi (today, 8:18 PM)
Is it true what they say de de lune?
That’s it’s really a Babouse cartoon?
Let us see if it’s so.
Up high we shall go.
And take a voy-aj a la moon.
Had an Alzheimer’s meeting today,
Or was it last Tuesday, – or May?
Whatever they said
Might have entered my head
But it didn’t remember to stay.
High over London one afternoon
Soared a gigantic hot air balloon,
Depicting his head,
Trump awkwardly said,
“They love me as a cartoon.”
“I have here a strange looking thing,
There’s a bell at the end I can ring,”
Old Chuck Berry said,
“But my memory’s dead,
Is it really my own ding-a-ling?”
Found my car keys, I feel like a star.
They were right in the sweet pickle jar.
I’m not out of my mind!
Now I just have to find
My cookin-with-gas hot- rod car.
change in line 5
Found my car keys, I feel like a star.
They were right in the sweet pickle jar.
I’m not out of my mind.
Now I just have to find
My “cookin-with-gas brand new car.
“Gonna’ see Miss Lascivious soon.
She blows hard like a full-scale typhoon.
She gets me so hot.
Always hits the right spot.
And I rise like a hot air balloon”
“AAH! Memories”
The word “sure” is the one I regret.
In high school, Pete said, “Let’s go pet”.
The guy stripped me bare,
Without one single care.
There are some things I’d rather forget.
Plane geometry figures that “lune,”
Shapes up to be Latin for “moon.”
Both concave and convex?
Plainly, way too complex!
(I can’t end this verse any too soon).
I wanted to play Claire De Lune
Though the piano was so out of tune;
But I gave no big boon
To my friend’s packed saloon,
When instead I began just to croon.
The knife told the pan, “You’re a loon”.
So angry, the pan struck the prune.
The tongs clawed the fork.
The whisk punched the spork.
And the dish ran away with the spoon.
As I munched on a fresh Lorna Doone,
While I listened to famed Clair de Lune,
So entranced by the sound,
Floating thoughts grew profound:
“Gee, I wish I had bought macaroon.”
In New Orleans, “The Times-Picayune”
Did report that our lives very soon
Will be back to quite normal
In their story informal
That flies like a leaden balloon.
Romantic Memory
I remember that sweet night in June.
We heard such a beautiful tune.
We danced and embraced.
Oh, how my heart raced,
When to all passers-by he would moon.
Everyone Is Using “Clair de Lune”
“Debussy’s Secret” (the REAL story)
His first choice was “Bambi de Lune”
But then something happened real soon:
Clair gave him her money.
He called her his “honey”
And thus, the new name of the tune.
Her breasts were just like a balloon.
So round and so full, thought I’d swoon.
I caressed them, then stopped.
Cause something had popped.
(Wall to wall all the saline was strewn).
When my sis I phone up for a chat,
Reminiscing will lead to a spat.
“Your old mem’ries are shot,”
I say. She cries, “They’re not!
I remember that you were a brat.”
Lorena – a name that reflects
The moment her rage cleared the decks.
Time’s passage may cure,
But there’s one thing for sure:
She’ll never re-member her ex.
Not A Duplicate “Our Former President”
If I governed this land, I’d enjoy it.
But if I should lie, then, oh boy, it.
(Just like a balloon
At a wedding in June)
Would take one small prick to destroy it.
Why don’t we go to the saloon
And then make out under the moon?
Where is your mind at?
How can you say that?
I’m telling you it’s just too soon!
She sought a job in a saloon
Her figure, of course, was a boon
But she came up short
At this tourist port
Cause she could not carry a tune
The clown offered a macaroon
And then handed out a balloon
But you must take care
With this clown, beware!
Yes, turns out he is a goon!
Memories From A Distant Era: “One For My Baby”, Frank Sinatra:
The Quintessential Saloon Singer
This man never sang out of tune.
(The archetype for any saloon)
And at “quarter to three”
It was so clear to see
That Ol’ Blue Eyes was “Master of Croon”.
“With the onset of memory loss,
I have found I’m inclined to get cross.
I have no idea why –
May be best not to pry –
And I cope by not giving a toss.” (UK equivalent to not giving a rat’s ass!)
“I remember the war – ‘forty-two.
It was lunchtime – we had Irish stew.
I had two cups of tea –
Corporal Evans had three –
But for breakfast? I haven’t a clue.”
There are So many words rhyme with Loon
We already know Lune and Balloon
and of course there’s Saloon
also Moon, Croon and Boon
Watch this space, – there are more coming soon.
Put your toes on the arc of the Lune
By the twenty four rune stones I’ve strewn.
Raise your head to the sky
Take a breath and let fly
With a cry like a Loon at the Moon.
Whenever there comes a full moon,
it hangs over me like a balloon.
It’s messages biting,
“Hey A-hole, keep writing!”
and each word comes as if from a loon.
Cullman, Alabama. August 21, 2021.
By the light of the silvery moon
I could hear the shrill scream of a loon.
How I yearn for the day
DJT goes away;
It can’t happen a moment too soon.
Teacher had to be often reminded:
“Take attendance in class; you’re behind. Did
You remember today?”
“Doesn’t matter,” she’d say.
Either way I am a called absent minded.”
I think Lune and Loon do not rhyme
I’m so glad I remembered in time
I’ve learned from this game
If the words sound the same
I’m committing a limerick crime.
It was sunny San Jose. – Ahhh, Carmel.
We has pasta with veg. – In a shell?
I gave you a balloon,
I received macaron.
Oh yes I remember it well.
She loved singing in many a choir
And was hired to sing Handel’s Messiah.
With her schedule so big
She’d forgotten which gig
And let rip with James Brown’s ‘Take Me Higher’!
Better version
perhaps, and without typo, of 8/22 1:43 entry
I wanted to play Clair de Lune,
But the piano was so out of tune;
Then I gave no nice boon
To my friend’s packed saloon
When instead I began to just croon.
I remember that looming first kiss;
It was destined to bring utter bliss;
The music was playing,
Our bodies were swaying,
And then he had to go take a piss!
You can be real exceedingly smart.
And know all about “state of the art”
Yet still be a loon,
Like a stupid cartoon.
Beware! We can tell them apart.
Trump’s MAGA crowd started to swoon
The moment he struck up his tune.
A raucous event,
In his thrall they were sent
By the sight of the slithering loon.
“Loon?” Let’s see what’s left. Hmmm
I just thought of an excellent rhyme!
Not to brag, but I think it’s sublime:
“Make friends with a loon.
And surprisingly soon,
You’ll feel clever and smart all the time”.
Correction: singular and plural mix-up line one (maybe?)
From yesterday at 5:50 PM
Her breasts, both just like a balloon.
So round and so full, thought I’d swoon.
I caressed them, then stopped.
Cuz something had popped.
(Wall to wall, all the saline was strewn).
Stingy Parents: “My 5 year old birthday party”
That party was one big mistake.
All the gifts from my parents were fake.
Not one damn balloon
And that afternoon,
Daddy showed me a picture of cake.
Said a parakeet once to a loon,
“It’s a hoot that you wail at the moon.
But if you were like me,
Always caged, never free,
You’d be singing a whole diff’rent tune.”
(Slight change in my posting above)
Trump’s MAGA crowd started to swoon
The moment they cranked up his tune.
A raucous event,
In his thrall they were sent
By the sight of the slithery loon.
My ride in a hot-air balloon
Was something – I’d go again soon!
We had to abort
At a nudist resort;
Exposed to both sun and the moon.
There’s an old rhyme that mentions November
Citing how many days in September
And that most (when they’re done)
Have at least thirty one
Except one that I still can’t remember.
Memory: Senior Moment
Parked my car in the lot near the brook.
I admit that the next day I shook.
I went back to the lot.
To the very next spot.
To give back the car that I took.
Change Of One Word, Line 3
Memory: Senior Moment
Parked my car in the lot near the brook.
I admit that the next day I shook.
I drove back to the lot.
To the very next spot.
To give back the car that I took.
My memory’s fading – it’s true;
Apparently something that’s new.
I still can recall
Fifties music and all;
But car keys? I haven’t a clue!
Memories of Mama’s Cooking
When mom cooked for the dogs, they would bark.
But I never made one rude remark.
Our burnt toast had bones,
Which gave all of us crohn’s
And her dry meatloaf glowed in the dark.
Hey Christine
Same last line as in your limerick. I did write mine before I saw yours.
Great minds think alike.
I know that I will go to hell
For telling what I shouldn’t tell;
That Maurice Chevalier
Was probably gay.
Ah yes, I remember it well.
You dine in a cheap greasy spoon
And drink in a sleazy saloon,
It’s not that you’re cheap.
You’re simply a creep.
Your taste is in ernest jejune.
When new astronauts land on the moon,
There’s a chance that their egos balloon.
But their egos should shrink
When back home. I do think
They should be down-to-Earth fairly soon.
There was Boone as in Daniel I swoon,
so romantic then found out a loon.
His behavior so lame,
it is such a sad shame.
But, he kissed and then howled at the moon.
My first date was attractive M. Goon,
so romantic but better stay tune.
His behavior fits name,
it is such a sad shame.
But he wrecked it by mooning a loon.
Old Ms. Gloria Steinem has said,
“Now at my age”…. What was it I read?
“Rememb’ring’s as good
as”…. (I’d say if I could).
Was it something I once had in bed?
Dear Rudy, I just cannot lie.
Some words that you use make me sigh.
I may be a loon,
But I do know “jejune”
Is the month that’s before jeJuly.
“I remember the war – ‘forty-two.
It was lunchtime – we had Irish stew.
I had two cups of tea –
Corporal Evans had three –
But for breakfast today? Not a clue.”
Sorry. Needed ‘today’ to make sense.
Prices Are Rising
Folks, here is the sad situation
(A dilemma that faces the nation)
If you want a balloon,
Better be a tycoon.
The price is high due to inflation.
I have a fun toy that’s unmatched.
‘Twas the last one in stock that I snatched!
It’s a novel balloon.
That plays a Bach tune.
It was free and with no strings attached.
Rudy, Amazing what inspiration you get from musicals. Clever lyrics in “GiGi.” Your limerick excellent!
So romantic to “lasso the moon”,
but can also be words of a loon.
If he’s literal run,
a loser you’re done.
Or BOTH end up being lampooned.
For Rudy and Christine: I’m trying to beat you. (LOL)
Oh, “Gigi”, a wonderful show.
I saw it a long time ago.
Both lim’riks: divine!
But I have to outshine:
I sat next to Lerner and Loewe
(yeah,sure)
“Get Outta’ My Space”
The moon and the Earth were “in tune”.
Until that real sad night in June.
The eclipse was the root
Of a hateful dispute.
Now the Earth is real mad at the lune.
Spring and summer from morning till noon,
An old woodchuck chucks wood roughly hewn.
In autumn and winter
He pulls out each splinter —
By the light of the sliver-y moon.
Here’s a tip (to avoid a mishap)
If line-ends Sound the same it’s a trap.
If line three ends with Lune
And line four ends with Loon
It’s a perfect example. – Oh Crap!
I seem to be drawing a blank;
There’s someone I may need to thank.
That happens these days
When it no longer pays:
My overdrawn memory bank.
When that body was found (last December)
You said you’d quit drinking, – remember?
Yet at every full moon
You still howl like a Loon
With your fangs in a new neck so tender.
Mad -after posting my limerick above, I just now realized how close it is to your own memory-themed one which I hadn’t read before. My apologies!
Dave
**********
From Mad:
It’s sufficiently different, so don’t worry about it.
I’m Sorry
Hurt his feelings, and now I am blue.
Only tried to convey what was true.
I called him a “loon”
He replied, “Listen June!
“How dare you! I already knew”.
My Obsession With “Jejune”
Don’t know lots ‘a words, so I try
To learn one each day to get by.
I still can’t grasp “jejune”
So I must be a loon.
Would it be just before jeJuly?
Memory: I remember everything, even if it was 50 years ago!
In high school, I sure learned a lot.
As a student, I really was hot.
My best subject was science.
(Not a shred of defiance)
Oh wait. I forgot. It was not.
Sorry, another typo in line 5 of my “jejune” limerick, which I repair here.
You dine in a cheap greasy spoon
And drink in a sleazy saloon,
It’s not that you’re cheap.
You’re simply a creep.
Your taste is in earnest jejune
“The Times-Picayune” has retracted its previous story and published this new one, obviously also false news.
In New Orleans, “The Times-Picayune”
Predicted it wouldn’t be soon
That life would come back
To its usual track.
This flew like a leaden balloon
Memories of Sweet Aunt Lulu: 1931-2021
Aunt Lulu was known as “the bitch”.
Never gave us a penny, though rich.
She always was sinning.
She now must be spinning.
If she knew what we paid for her ditch.
I loved her, but to my great shame
I can not remember her name;
But you know what they say,
In the light of the day,
Upside down they do all look he same.
Captain Ahab, as you will recall,
Was held by a white whale in thrall.
But he used an old trick
To find Moby Dick.
He prayed at the old whaling wall.
Oh Lisi, oh Lisi. please beat me.
I love it when lim’ricks defeat me.
And every blue moon,
In your Chevy Saloon,
Please drive me insane and mistreat me.
Lisi and Ruby: Newbie to limericks, and blown away by your talent.
New diet, have nothing past noon,
oh so crabby and yell like a loon.
I am going to bail,
still look like a whale.
The clue? I’ve been stuck with harpoon.
A daring young airman named Boone
Uses hydrogen gas to balloon.
Before rising too far,
He lights up a cigar.
He’ll be back on the ground really soon.
Had a mishap last week with my hair,
an appointment with woman named Claire.
So confused was saloon,
the cut made me swoon.
A happy dyslexia err.
I mean no disrespect to anyone with dyslexia. I’ve know people who have struggled with this condition.
My Brilliant Mind: I actually remember things from BEFORE I was born.
As a fetus, the fit was too tight.
So cramped in, and that just wasn’t right.
So when mommy was sleeping,
I ended my weeping,
And quietly sneaked out each night.
Hey Christine and Lisi, it’s showtime again!
No question, this year has been drastic,
And you’re thinking of going monastic;
But try to remember,
Perhaps in September,
That life can be truly fantastic.
Heavenly Love
A beautiful night; it was June.
The wedding took place on the moon.
He had fallen in love
With a star from above.
Then to Earth, on their sweet honeylune.
Starry Eyed
A beautiful day; it was June.
At the catering hall, known as “Lune”,
2 stars from above
Fell madly in love.
Then honeymooned down in Cancun.
Rudy! I’m shocked!
Oh Rudy! You must be a loon
Who wants to do more than just spoon.
Don’t you know I’m a prude?
How dare you be rude!
(On second thought, see ‘ya real soon).
The typo queen strikes again. (line 5 repaired)
I loved her, but to my great shame
I can not remember her name;
But you know what they say,
In the light of the day,
Upside down they do all look the same.
(Looney correction for 8-24 faux pas)
Though his livelihood I would impugn,
My pet woodchuck remains quite immune.
He goes lumbering off
For some weed and a quaff
At the old Sliver Dollar Saloon.
(Groundhogs 2 Sjaan 0)
Oh Lisi, it must be our fate
That someday we’ll meet for a date.
But please not too soon.
I’d wail like a loon
My song that you’ll find not too great.
(Rudy, I’ll lend you my Ben-Gay)
“The Worst Memory Of My Life” I was right there!
This memory always “pervades”.
My heart and my soul, it invades.
Uncle Bill had harsh pains,
Running all through his veins,
While playing a game of Charades.
Thank you, Christine
Another Terrible Memory
The agony just will not end.
My cruel mother, I’ll never defend.
To me she would say,
(In a very strange way)
“I love you, but just as a friend”.
Ben? Gay?
Uncle Ben, if my memory serves.
Cooks rice and he’ll get on my nerves.
And oh. By the way.
Didn’t know he was gay.
Oh Lisi, you do throw some curves.
Limerick Correction from yesterday: 10:40 PM
L4 was incorrect. ” Memories Of Aunt Lulu”
Aunt Lulu was known as “The Bitch”.
Never gave us a penny, though rich.
She always was sinning.
And sure would be spinning,
If she knew what we paid for her ditch.
In April, in May and in June,
I’d frequent that trendy saloon;
I’d sit at the bar,
Guitar never far,
And croon that old tune Silv’ry Moon.
Rudy: “The Fantasticks” fantastic, and such beautiful song.
Such nostalgia as host with the most,
was definite “town of the toast.”
Ahh turn it aroun’,
the “toast of the town.”
I NEED to have brain diagnosed!
She met her new boyfriend in June;
Not wanting to pop his balloon,
Her message was just
“When we cuddle it must
Not lead to a fork from a spoon.”
Ah Paree, I remember it well!
‘Bout that Christmas tape – tensions did swell;
“One more take, s’il vous plait
Monsieur Chevalier –
Yes it’s perfect! Merci! Bon Noel!”
(True story. His entourage would have killed me if that last take hadn’t been good.)
There are times when a surgical boon,
is stent in the form of balloon.
This operation success,
but a lawsuit, oh yes.
New brain’s from a hairy racoon.
Whoops1
There are times when a surgical boon,
is stent in the form of balloon.
Operation success,
but a lawsuit, oh yes.
New brain’s from a hairy racoon.
We lay nude by our fire (last December)
Some sparks burned my fiancé’s member.
While I still recall
The the romance of it all,
He only remembers the ember.
A pizza for breakfast it’s cold,
then crease it for lunch in a fold.
A snack afternoon,
give crust to a loon.
In jammies for dinner, I’m sold.
“See Your Memories” “See Your Memories” “See Your Memories”
Some memories make me depressed.
So I have just one simple request.
Since I used to be happy,
But now I feel crappy,
Dear Facebook, please give it a rest.
I’m still stuck at that recording session – 8/25 6:08pm
A slight addition – Line 4
Ah Paree, I remember it well!
‘Bout that Christmas tape – tensions did swell!
“One more take, s’il vous plait,
Dear Monsieur Chevalier—
Yes that’s perfect! Merci! Bon Noel!”
If you eat all that food you’ll balloon,
So dump twelve pints of ice cream – lick spoon!
Bring on the good veggie
And if you feel edgy,
You may nibble on one macaroon!
My astronaut husband Calhoun,
was solid, but sometimes a loon.
To rid stress on some nights,
from effects of the flights.
I’d chuckle, “Oh, honey just moon.”
I heard Sounds like demented delirium,
Some folk Said “It’s a Loon” but I query ‘em
Cuz I’d just seen some goon
With a floppy balloon
And I’m sure he’d just ‘snorted’ the Helium.
In my town our archaic saloon,
Holds a “game night” on ev’ry full moon.
We make pool cues from bones,
And play Scrabble with stones.
You should see it — complete rack and rune.
I want to declare and be clear.
Whenever that “lune” tune I hear
(Re: the light of the moon),
I think of a loon
Whose tremolo pleases my ear.
Loons have four calls: The wail, the hoot, the yodel, the tremolo.
Aah Memories!
I remember when sex was taboo,
Till the day that we all said, “I do”.
No such thing as a mall.
And making a call,
When the folks didn’t know it was you.
“Still, our sex life is only a blur,”
I said, hoping he would concur.
“This dim candelabra,
An LP by Barbra —
I should remember the way we were?”
A Romantic Memory: We Were In Love
I’ve been sittin’ here smokin’ and drinkin’.
And doin’ some serious thinkin’
It’s time I came clean,
When I was sixteen,
I went to the prom with Abe Lincoln.
Forgetting stuff isn’t a game;
It can lead to great sorrow and shame.
Here’s a story of woe
From a fellow I know:
In the sack he called out the wrong name.
Memory: Glorious Childhood
I’m archaic, but still very bright.
And I still feel that life’s a delight.
I shall always recall
That day in the fall,
When the rainbow was true black and white.
“Just imagine that you are a loon.
Do you think you would yodel or croon?”
“Must it be either or?”
“No. Your options are four.”
“You do know I can’t carry a tune?”
On my birthday, appeared a balloon,
With a smile like a painted cartoon.
I popped it with dread,
Cuz the card with it read,
“One more birthday–enjoy! See you soon!”
Remember, let’s keep us astute,
protecting our brains absolute.
Just write and create,
don’t ever abate.
Or I’m kicking you square in the glute!
To make all my memories eternal,
I write every day in a journal.
Disclaimer (forsooth):
It’s true – some of the “truth”
In there’s only got part of a kernel.)
It’s tempting, I know, to lampoon
She who hoots and then wails as a loon.
But rest be assured:
Minnesota’s state bird
Is quite sane; indeed, YOU’RE the buffoon!
Full Moon Tonight
I love all the beautiful belles.
We meet at so many motels.
Don’t think I’m a loon,
But since I’m the moon.
Not tonight; I be casting some spells.
The sun and the moon had a fight.
Sun said, “Our affair’s not quite right”
“I’m sorry” said moon
“I’m not really a loon,
Just forbidden to date you at night”.
Calhoun, astronaut husband, returns:
My astronaut husband, Calhoun,
so solid and never a loon.
Was stressed on some nights,
to recover from flights.
Saw National Chevy’s Lampoon.
My new friend, looking up at the moon,
Cried, “A tremolo! Must be a loon!”
My response, automatic,
“Those sounds from the attic?
That’s my wife. You’ll be meeting her soon.”
Charles Schulz And His Mysterious “Snoopy”
Some people said, “Snoopy’s a goon,
And just a dumb comic buffoon”.
So he shaped his own world.
And never unfurled
His musings inside the “balloon”.
OR
Some people say, “Snoopy’s a goon,
In a very pathetic cartoon”.
So he shaped his own world,
And never unfurled
His musings inside the “balloon”.
Memories Can Be Hurtful
My memories, all full of woe,
Need forgetting, I’ve got to let go!
So I thought about this:
I’ll just reminisce
With people I just do not know.
Better With A Minor Change
Memories Can Be Hurtful
My memories, so full of woe,
Need forgetting, I’ve got to let go!
So I thought about this:
I’ll just reminisce
With people I simply don’t know.
A drunken contortionist (Hans)
Showing off to a crowd of his fans
In a sleazy saloon
Tried a third-degree Moon
But could not find his arse with both hands.
Martha Stewart, while at the saloon,
Was singing a very sad tune.
But became real enthralled,
When she thought she recalled:
“Can you really make wine from a prune?”
(yes)
On the other hand: Senior Citizen Trip
We “seniors” while at the saloon,
Were singing a real happy tune.
But we all ran away
When we heard someone say,
“All the wine here is made from a prune”.
Astronaut husband trilogy sadly ends:
Cheating ex-husband Calhoun,
have established a definite loon.
he’s under no stress,
so sorry digress.
He left with vivacious baboon.
Senior Citizen Trip Number Two
The “seniors” at “Clogged Up Saloon”
Were singing a real happy tune.
They were feeling divine,
Cuz all of the wine
Is made with a specialized prune.
I just had to put quotation marks here: Senior Citizen Trip,
“Number Two”
The seniors in “Clogged Up Saloon”
Were singin’ a real happy tune.
They felt so divine,
Cuz all of their wine,
Is made from a specialized prune.
An old liquor law, (looney tune),
Said a tavern can’t be a saloon;
But everyone saw,
Circumventing that law,
That brasserie, “O’Neals’ Balloon”.
One day that “B” disappeared, and we had “O’NEALS’ ALLOON”.
Voice-mail (femail)
Hi, this is your sweet-talkin’ whore.
It’s about your appointment at four.
It’s the twentieth day
You’ve forgotten your lay
(Yakkity Yak), don’t come back, that’s the score!
At the bar of the Last Chance saloon
Stood the bushwhacker, Dry-Gulch Muldoon.
“Barkeep, whiskey!” “We’re dry –
Otherwise, I’d comply.
New supply doesn’t get here till noon.”
Dry-Gulch eyed him as if to decide
Should he shoot him or let this one slide.
From behind came a shout.
“Mister Dry-Gulch – look out!”
But the warning came late, and he died.
Hardened tosspots, the moral I think
Is quite clear. ‘Twas the evil of drink
Took the life of Muldoon
In the Last Chance saloon –
With the help of Buck Bulstrode, the fink.
An excessively amorous loon,
In addition to learning to croon,
Made his feathers fluoresce –
This was sure to impress –
In the light of the silvery moon.
“By means of a simple mnemonic –
I’m forgetful. No, really! It’s chronic –
I remember my name –
I’m too old to feel shame –
By biting the ‘c’ off of tonic.”
When a baby boy babbles, “Babloon,”
And his mother corrects with, “BALLOON,”
What does grandmother say?
“It’s his Word of the Day,
Therefore, one we ought not to oppugn.”
By the light of a silvery loon,
Whose fluorescence, one dark of the moon,
Gave enough light to see,
When I needed to pee.
His appearance was most opportune.
Continuing the fiction of the limerick above.
“The Donald” (to all lim’rikers):
Okay, so this man is a loon,
Who sang a real out-of-pitch tune.
Yet now we feel hollow,
And can no longer wallow
In the pool of our fav’rite “lampoon”
My love, please accompany me
To Long Island, and then you will see:
A charming saloon.
(We’ll stare at the moon)
While sipping some rip-roaring tea.
“I think we remember your name;
But somehow, you don’t look the same.
Is it Terri, Jeri or possibly Mary?
Amanda? We’re so glad you came.”
Let’s have a great time; I insist.
You’re a lady I just can’t resist.
There’s a real nice saloon
Right near the lagoon.
And I need a punch line with a twist.
A Little More Insistent
Let’s “paint the town red”; I insist.
You’re a lady I just can’t resist.
There’s a real nice saloon
Right near the lagoon.
And I need a punch line with a twist.
(Obviously, my posting above needs to be corrected)
“I think we remember your name;
But somehow, you don’t look the same.
Is it Terri, Jeri
Or possibly Mary?
Amanda? We’re so glad you came.”
(This theme is starting to take hold…)
A slipper of glass was the tool,
it shattered with blood in a pool.
Large pumpkin was strewn,
the prince hit saloon.
While step-mom arrested, she’s fool.
While yachting I learned the word lune,
Its meaning of course is just moon;
But what shall I say
When Captain will play –
“He lunes ev’ry day right at noon?”
I’ve created (just using my brain)
A hilariously crazy refrain
It’s so funny I’m crying.
Trust Me, – I’m not lying,
now what was that first line again?
Those Russians did once change their tune.
Their flag with that hammer and lune..
Oh, oh. I meant sickle.
I’m now in a pickle.
I’ll return to this lim’rick real soon.
That flag with a hammer and sickle
Once made our skin crawl, even prickle;
But that sickle did soon,
(It was shaped like a lune),
Become worth just a plugged wooden nickel.
I should so like to write about lune,
But I am not equipped, old buffoon.
No geometrician,
I’d fail in my mission,
And people would mock and lampoon.
As I woo in the soft clair de lune,
I am casting around for a tune.
To entice and inflame
Is my infamous aim
And if moonlight won’t do it, I’ll croon.
They’ve decided I’m far too erratic.
I protested, but they were emphatic.
To each phase of la lune,
I adjust and attune,
And for this I’m consigned to the attic.
A Lune’s like a moon (to one’s eye)
But it’s true shape involves radii.
Tech description’s not pleasant
Best to just stick with ‘Crescent’
But this Lim’rick still won’t qualify.
Guess I’ll have to re-write so that Lune
Is now last in the line, likewise Moon.
It’s not Pi that we find
In our Romantic mind
But thoughts more related to June
We also, I think, can’t deny
That that the moon looks a bit like a pie
And the actual Lune
Is the part that’s “unchew’n”
An example of Pi in the sky.
“I am strolling au clair de la lune
With the girl whom I hope one day soon
Will give in and give out –
You know what I’m about.
I’ve had all I can take of, ‘Just spoon!’”
Geometrically speaking a crescent:
Astronomically, it’s luminescent.
But to Frenchmen, La Lune
Is their word for our moon;
Le soleil for the sun incandescent.
I drive what Brits call a saloon
So fast it makes young ladies swoon.
[Now, saloon can mean beer –
So let’s make it quite clear –
If you drink and then drive you’re a loon.]
“Though I’m sorry to burst your balloon,
Alive you won’t leave this saloon,”
Said Clint Eastwood. “No crooks
Can compete with my looks,
So in movies, to death I’m immune.”
There was a young lady called May
Whose memory went absent one day.
It was due to drink
But not how you’d think;
She was hit by a large brewer’s dray.
Lunar language seems slightly insane
I perceive it as somewhat arcane.
“Gibbous Waxing of Moon”
(or) “Last Crescent of Lune”.
Is the man in it really called Wane?
If my mem’ry gets strained, I don’t sweat it;
Should it lapse on a workout, I let it.
When it heads for the shower,
And asks, “Why the glower?”
“Oh, it’s nothing,” I say, “just forget it.”
This venture was really a kicker.
Don’t think I have ever been sicker.
That hot air balloon
Sure wasn’t a boon.
But more like a death grip on wicker.
A hot air balloon has no room,
And gives you a feeling of doom.
This scary balloon
Is like a cocoon.
And you’ll feel like you’re back in the womb.
As youngster a cherished cartoon,
was Bugs as in Bunny lampoon.
So smart and adept,
I laughed and then wept.
The perception expression was loon.
Can’t Remember Where I Put My Book!
Just what is this gobbledygook
That helps you recall where the book
That you just lost today
“Didn’t just fly away”
And of course! “It’s the last place you look!”
Two musical tunes, I’m obsessed,
The best? It is hard and I’m pressed.
The Ballad of High Noon,
will duel Claire de Lune.
Both make me sadly, depressed!
Always Leave Him a Note!
A young wife who was prone to misspell,
wrote a note for her hubby, pell-mell:
“I’ll be at the saloon
the entire afternoon.”
He was steamed, but her hair got styled well.
I Need Some—Oh, What’s It Called?
With my recall declining each year,
that I must have a “brain pill” grew clear.
I dashed right out the door.
When I got to the store,
I just stared and said, “Why am I here?”
They sent up a weather balloon.
They needed to know, and real soon.
They’ve been racking their brain
Trying hard to explain
Why a hurricane’s not a typhoon.
A double-duty one using all the words:
What’s the theme of the contest this time?
And what words did she say we should rhyme?
Something ending in -oon….
Like balloon, lune, saloon?
Aging’s made me a loon. It’s a crime!
The Hindenburg mishap parts strewn,
were eager for docking so soon.
The scene it was tragic,
most survived as if magic.
The helium doomed the balloon.
A Twist On Another One: Memory
Though I’m old, I am still very bright.
And I still feel that life’s a delight.
So ancient am I,
I remember a sky
With a rainbow in pure black and white.
Forever Remembering 1950’s Elementary School:
A Scenario: “The Hall”
Like soldiers in line, we were walking.
And quietly, all of us balking.
In our ears, it’s still ringing.
Those two words that were stinging.
We’ll never forget them: “NO TALKING!”
There are times I must stifle a yawn,
When my friends reminisce of days gone.
I don’t list to be kind;
Something else I’ve in mind:
Yea, forsooth! ‘Twill be MY turn anon!
another memory from the 50’s
“Euphemisms”
In those years, we never played hooky.
And wondered ’bout something called “nookie”
And right in our class,
The teacher was crass.
And say, “Please stop touching your pukky”.
“What’s this thing?” 1950’s: Mom and Dad’s Bedroom
I called my dear brother, “the goon”.
And one very cold afternoon,
He found a weird sheath,
Which he put in his teeth.
And formed a real tatty balloon.
Memory” Fear In The Classroom: 1956″
It’s true, that I really did love her.
Couldn’t help it, that day, had to shove her.
A siren we heard.
It was truly absurd.
When Mrs. Strict yelled out, “TAKE COVER!”
Correction Of A Limerick
Mom and Dad’s Bedroom, “What’s This Thing?”
I called my dear brother “the goon”.
And one very cold afternoon,
He found some kind of sheath
Which he put in his teeth.
And blew till he made a balloon.
Remember the Alamo, man.
Pearl Harbor, Viet Nam, if you can.
And the Battleship “Maine”,
Sunk in Cuba by Spain.
So what’s new about Afghanistan?
The iconic Vidal Sassoon,
with hair-cutting always attune.
Geometric and chic,
just skimming the cheek.
So humble his start from saloon.
A genre of clothing called “jorts”,
the denim we wear as our shorts.
I typically can’t,
be caught in that pant.
But my memory often distorts.
I’ve created (just using my brain)
A hilariously crazy refrain
It’s so funny I’m crying.
Trust Me, – I’m not lying,
now what was that first line again?
(Voice-mail)
Hi, this is your sweet-talkin’ whore.
It’s about your appointment at four.
It’s the twentieth day
You’ve forgotten your lay
(Yakk’ty Yak), don’t come back, that’s the score!
I remember, I wrote the first half
‘bout a guy needing somewhere to Barf.
Then I wrote him a door,
Which I locked in line four,
but somehow he got the last Laugh.
I was saved, not a moment too soon,
By a quick-thinking, passing Walloon.
He distracted the bear,
And we scarpered from there
And escaped in his hot-air balloon.
I’ve a serious problem. The gist:
I forget things. I’m getting quite pissed.
So I write it all down.
Now I feel like a clown:
I forgot where I put that damn list.
Today I’m so glad to report
My memory lapses are short.
The only thing now
Is remembering how
We got to this beachfront resort.
Absent-mindedness sometimes is hellish;
Drawing blanks isn’t something I relish.
Long-term mem’ries, however,
Confirm that I’m clever —
They’re the ones I’ve had time to embellish.
I recall that I once had the urge
To hear Chopin’s sad, funeral dirge.
But what made me weep?
Ticket prices were steep,
And this cheapskate for once had to splurge.
This actually happened. About 30 years ago, my Aunt Gert, at age 85,
married for the 5th. time. We went to visit.
“Memory”
Aunt Gertrude was feeling real glum.
Till she married her doddery chum.
She felt so complete,
Said, “Id like to you meet
My new husband, Umm Umm Umm Umm Umm”.
sorry about the wrong spelling of “um” , yet here is another way of putting it
as well:
Aunt Gertrude was feeling real glum,
Till she married her doddery chum.
She felt so complete,
Said “I’d like you to meet
My new hubby whose name is Um Um”.
Ms. Unsightly, I don’t plan to spoon.
And you won’t hear me crooning love’s tune.
Those silvery beams
Are just in your dreams.
Get out of my life, you’re a loon.
My cognition has run all amok,
problems with language, I’m stuck.
So clearly confused,
Some perplexed some amused.
The duck on that cluck, what the muck?
My Dad’s Failing Memory
My dad is so terribly blue.
Can’t remember the things that he knew.
Hope it isn’t genetic.
That would make me frenetic.
Cuz I know that my dad has it too.
Welcome To Memory Loss Anonymous
Good evening, folks, my name is Guy.
I’m the Leader, I’ll help you get by.
I know you’re confused
And not very enthused
Cuz you’re here and you’re wondering why.
That phenomenon “tip of the tongue”,
it happens with old I’m among.
Do not need an assist,
a welcoming twist.
It also occurs in the young.
I concede, and my towel I’ve thrown in.
Tonight, my ideas have run thin.
With too many lapses
Of num’rous synapses, –
Persisted,- but know this won’t win.
Where’d I put it? (Oh, what a disgrace!)
People tell me, “Just go and retrace”.
Well that didn’t work,
But now I’ve a smirk:
I put memos all over my face.
“Always Do Research”
Surely one of my biggest regrets
Was choosing Doc Where Am I Betz.
I didn’t explore.
But now I know more.
He’s the “Surgeon Who Always Forgets”
“My Tank Is Full”
I’m ancient, folks call me “The Pain”.
It’s their problem, so let me explain:
When they say, I forget,
I don’t get upset.
There’s just no more room in my brain.
Journal entry: My hot-air balloon
Has developed a leak. Very soon
I will land with a bump
On my derrière (rump)
And in all likelihood, I will swoon.
When I was a cute care-free tyke,
I’d smile all day, riding my bike.
But now that I’m old,
The truth must be told:
I forget a great deal of things, like
A big Party Store, known as Festoon,
Was held up by a bomb-toting goon.
He yelled, “Gimme your cash —
Don’t do anything rash —
Or I’m blowin’ up ev’ry balloon!”
My Personal Memory
One cherished and grand afternoon,
So nervous, I thought I would swoon.
My first DAY as a teacher,
(To me the main feature)
I read all my “sweets” “Red Balloon”
and they all walked out holding a red balloon, which I tied around their wrists.
author, Albert Lamorisse
My ex is named Skeet what a cheat,
had a dream I restrained both his feet.
But my mem’ries subpar,
went to trunk of my car.
It had bags that were drained of concrete.
The tycoon was besieged by typhoon,
had recent surprise with monsoon.
His goal, to survive,
and keep self alive.
No more travel, so howdy saloon.
Says Poppins who’s renown but loon,
that medicine best if by spoon.
Add sugar nice touch,
soon converts to crutch.
Then cavities hit like typhoon.
Thanks a lot Mary!
Smiling up at the man in the moon
From the boat of my hot-air balloon,
I was taken off-guard
When he winked, the blackguard.
Almost fell out and died. Damn buffoon!
The first Frenchman to walk on la lune,
Will, no doubt, celebrate with a tune.
Then take three hours for lunch –
I’m spit balling, a hunch –
Before planting his flag close to Dune.
LOON or LUNE or BALLOON or SALOON
By the light of the silvery moon
She burst my one fragile balloon.
“You’ve been seen out with SAL
Who’s a heck of a gal,
But I fear that her surname is OON”.
A pirate, ashore in Rangoon,
Got the clap and then sang this sad tune:
“I Hooked up with a hussy
Without bein’ fussy.
She charged but a half a doubloon!”
I wrote to you here (did I not?) –
Damn neurons beginning to rot!
Now we’ve that sorted out
I am ready to spout
‘Bout that thing … bl**dy *ell, I forgot!!!
Ms. Streisand can sing; she can croon.
But “art song”? We sadly learned soon,
That she could not handle
George Frideric Handel.
That flew like a vain lead balloon.
“Classical Barbra” got very mixed reviews. Handel was on track 7.
Come down to The Flybar Saloon;
Our jukebox will play you a tune.
If there is some strife
With your husband or wife,
We’re open from midnight ’till noon.
Doris Day sang “The Silvery Moon”
Great singer, a very sweet tune.
I still always think
Of Doris in pink,
Who’s stuck in her killjoy balloon.
OR
Doris Day sang “The Silvery Moon”
Great singer, a very sweet tune.
I still always think
Of Doris in pink,
Who lived in a prissy balloon.
Bob Hope, you were funny. Good job!
Your corny jokes fresh off your cob
Your occasional gaffe
That too made us laugh.
So thanks for the memory, Bob.
The moon has a sweet hint of shimmer.
To the world, adds nice subtle glimmer.
But my girlfriend, the loon
Is convinced that the moon
Is the sun on real high-tech dimmer.
For Rudy: Our ages are showing. “Memory”
Sinatra and Streisand and Hope?
Bet your Mama bought Ivory soap.
You and I still recall
When life was a ball,
And Pius the twelfth was the Pope.
“Papa Bill, age 95”
“Papa Bill, you don’t smell like a flower;
I must tell you your odor’s quite sour”.
“I guess that is true.
I forgot what to do
The moment I stepped in the shower”.
(at 3:01 today) An attempt to write the same limerick with fewer
syllables:
The moon has a sweet hint of shimmer.
The world sees a nice subtle glimmer.
But my girlfriend, the loon
Is convinced that the moon
Is really the sun on a dimmer.
Swim suit contestants were strewn,
who caused this commotion? A loon.
The outfit correct,
though clear to detect.
The bikini was donned by baboon.
Virtuoso of contra bassoon,
Calhoon played his local saloon.
His fellow fagotti
completely forgot he
was drunk when he aced Clair De Lune.
Not a Duplicate
Doris Day, sang “The Silvery Moon”.
Great singer, a very sweet tune.
I always will think
Of Doris in pink
Tied up in a virgin balloon.
Oh Lisi, just what can I say?
I still “Cry” with the great Johnnie Ray.
Am I showing my age?
I recall Patti Page
As I’m sailing along Moonlight Bay.
New diet, have bupkis past noon,
so grouchy and squawk like a loon.
I oughta just bail,
still look like a whale.
The proof, I’ve been shoot with harpoon.
Wanted to add a little zing to original.
I suggested that we only spoon,
But she countered, “Let’s fork and damned soon!”
I thought great till I felt
Stabbing tines as I knelt—
I just barely escaped Claire the Loon.
I’m sorry, Lisi, but this needs to be said: 35% of these 236 are yours—give Mad a frikin’ break! Try polishing a handful instead of subjecting her, and us, to every damned thought that crosses your mind. And do your own frikin’ editing before you submit them for god’s sake. On the plus, I’ve seen you do some very good writing. Keep it up!
Folks are saying I ran down your cat,
And I smashed all your gnomes with a bat,
And I spit in your pie,
But my question is why?
Do they think we’ve forgotten all that?
An improvement on my “To Lisi” limerick.
Oh Lisi, just what can I say?
I still “Cry” with the great Johnnie Ray.
Am I showing my age?
I recall Patti Page
As I’m waltzing the Tennessee way.
If it’s time to fly folks to the moon,
Is a week from next Monday too soon?
Joe could make a few calls,
To select enough Pols
That could fill up a hot-air balloon.
My memory’s sharp as a tack;
It’s function goes all the way back.
I still can recall
Life’s events big and small;
Just details are all that I lack.
To Konrad:
Your verses, for me, are a hit,
And I don’t mind opinions one bit.
But your note to Ms. Nortman,
Not writ in good sport, man,
Is lacking your usual wit.
My apologies to Lisi, and everyone else, that comment is inexcusably harsh.
Attention all Limerick-Off Stragglers: The current Limerick-Off ends tomorrow, Saturday, at 4 pm (Eastern time.) So please get your straggler limericks in.
A lady magician named June
Would go to town humming a tune.
She could walk down the street
Looking very discreet
And then turn into a saloon.
Full of envy, you howl at the moon.
You act like a pathetic buffoon.
Just shows that you’re jealous!
Admit it, do tell us!
Need to pop your inflated balloon.
“An asylum, you say?” “So I’ve heard.
It’s applied when there’s more than one bird.
On its own it’s a loon—”
“Nice and easy – a boon.”
“But collective—” “Asylum’s the word.”
Konrad,
Being in a different time zone, I’m playing catch-up. As one known to proliferate on occasion, I wanted to leap to Lisi’s defence – and would have – but then I read Sjaan’s gentle but effective rebuke and your most gracious response, both of which I respectfully salute. Nevertheless, my muse wouldn’t let go and supplied what follows which I hope you will receive it in good humour – and, if necessary, forgive. It is a somewhat more robust response that Sjaan’s, but then she is a much nicer person. I promise you there’s no animosity. The moment having passed, it’s just for fun.
“What’s a Konrad?” “A vicious attack
By a pompous, curmudgeonly hack.”
“Can one sue?” “Sadly, no –
Not for having a go –
But one can, metaphorically, whack.”
“By what means? We can’t starve him of breath.
Nor, I note, are you lady Macbeth.”
“Why, by wit, scorn, and charm.
Whilst inflicting no harm,
One can bludgeon curmudgeon to death.”
“Well, Doctor, the reason I came …”
He began. “… Lemme think … What a shame!
I was going to say
That I’ve lost … but today,
I’ve completely forgotten the name.”
“Get vaccined? No way!” cried the loon.
“To make myself fully immune,
I took Ivermectin –
I sure ain’t injectin’
Them microchips any time soon!”
[In reaction to Dave Johnson’s 9/3 submission at 2:15pm]:
No matter how senile I get,
There’s one thing I’ll never forget.
That’s how badly it sits
Using “it’s” meaning “its”;
As a peeve, it’s my most favorite pet.
Happy Daze?
My kids said “Let’s go on this swing”
as it flew from their hands to my shin
From my face-downward splat
I can still recall that
they said “Dad, you’ve got blood on your chin”
We all have this limerick bug
Which spurs us to prove we no mug.
Lisi’s mind’s in a spiral
Cuz her bug is more viral.
I get it, – and send her a hug.
To Steve Benko – you’re absolutely right. It’s something I always try to do correctly, but missed it this time.
It’s giving me fit’s….
Dave J
It’s worth saying again, so I will. I am truly sorry, Lisi, and I hope I haven’t spoiled your fun. It was inexcusable, and therefore no explanation could be sufficient, but I want you to know it was not really about you, Lisi. My apologies again to everyone.
Thanks so much everyone for another fun two weeks of limericks. This Limerick-Off is officially over. And the winner is…
Limerick-Off Award 477. Congratulations to the winners!
But you can still have lots of limerick fun because a new Limerick-Off has just begun: Limerick-Off Way.